


Don't Say Anything

by Fanforlife84



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Angst, Choking, Dry Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Break Up, Rough Sex, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanforlife84/pseuds/Fanforlife84
Summary: OC Natalie has been broken up with Frankie for going on three months.  A fateful night out with the girls ends in an interesting encounter.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	Don't Say Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of what I hope will become a much longer story centered around Frankie and an original character, but this scene just would not leave my brain so I had to write it. I think it works as a standalone right now. 
> 
> This is my first time writing Frankie. He's so sweet but fierce in the movie, I tried to convey that. I love him so much, I just want to hug him around the tummy! 
> 
> Anyways...hope you enjoy and maybe I'll get my tail in gear and start fleshing this larger story out sometime. 
> 
> As always, feedback/comments are so, so appreciated.
> 
> Be well!

***

Nat smiled wistfully as she watched Meredith twirl herself around the two good natured older bar patrons that had been wrested onto the makeshift dance floor by her tipsy friend. Next to Natalie at the bar, a few other of her close friends from work and her social circle were chattering away, tittering over Meredith’s shenanigans, talking shop, or gossiping about someone named Kelly’s botched boob job. Despite the cheerful energy and upbeat vibe coming from her friends, she felt like everything around her was moving slowly, like she was trying to run through water. 

She might have considered that she had been slipped something in her drink, but she had been feeling this way since she had started getting ready earlier this evening, before even a drop of alcohol had touched her lips. Though she didn’t want to think about it too much, she knew what the cause of the fogginess was:

She missed Frankie. She missed him so much sometimes she couldn’t breathe. 

Meredith had called her earlier that day and insisted that she join her and the others to celebrate her belated birthday. When Natalie had tried to protest, Meredith had called her on her self-imposed hermitage over the last three months, had told Natalie that she was worried about her. That if things weren’t going to change between her and Frankie, then she at least needed to step back into the land of the living, even if just for a drink or two. 

“You need to socialize with someone other than your cats,” Meredith had squawked through the phone. Nat had made a face at the implied “crazy cat lady” reference but, she had thought, perhaps Meredith was right. During the week, she had summer school (which she had in previous years avoided like the plague but for which now she was grateful.) She could beg off outings on school nights, claiming the pressure from working with the high-risk students left her exhausted each evening. She had been skulking around the house most weekends; doing her level best to eradicate any and all memory of Frankie Morales. 

Having not been able to sleep in her own bed for several weeks after he had left, she had repainted and rearranged her bedroom. Still, sometimes she would wake up crying, swearing that she could feel his weight in the bed next to her, hear his soft (or loud) snores in the darkness, smell their sweat and sex in the sheets. Everything in her home seemed to possess an echo of him. She had eventually sold her couch for a new one after remembering the very first night he had visited her home, when their lovemaking had commenced with a steamy make out session on the leather sofa. Along with the new couch, she had also moved the rest of the furniture around. Out of nowhere one evening making dinner, she remembered the way he had sat her up on the counter one particular Sunday morning, pulled a chair from the table and spent almost an hour with his head between her legs. That particular memory had resulted in purchasing and installing new backsplash along with replacing the countertops and repainting the cupboard doors. She had turned into a veritable DIY guru with the cosmetic changes to her home, but that chosen method of trying to forget Frankie was proving to be exhausting...and expensive. Maybe, she had thought, it would do her some good to get out of the house for a night. 

She had reluctantly agreed to join Meredith and the girls, but had almost immediately regretted it. The slogging through water feeling had begun as she had tried to make herself not look wretched and sleep deprived, then continued when she had left to pick up Meredith. She had done her best to not be a downer, engaging in small talk with the other girls and even surprising herself by laughing a few times. But now, as the night wore on and the alcohol loosened the women up more and more, Natalie just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

_ That’s a lie. _ She thought as she sipped the watered down cocktail she had been nursing for a good thirty minutes.  _ What I really want is to lay on the couch with Frankie and watch something stupid on Netflix and fall asleep with his arms around.  _ She felt tears start to sting her face and she shook herself.

This all felt a farce, trying to pretend like going out with girlfriends was even close to what it used to be back before Frankie; before she had let herself fall so deeply for that man. She only noted with half an ear when one of the women in her group leaned across her and whispered, “Damn, incoming!! Grey jacket, coming towards the bar...hellooooo handsome!” Would she ever again be able (or even ever want) to look at another man with desire like that again? Her girlfriends assured her she would; that it would just take time, but right now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Hey man, can we get another round for the back?” The booming voice of who she could only assume was the grey-clad target in question was a familiar one and caused her to start. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Benny?” The eyes of the younger Miller brother lit up when he saw her and before she knew what was happening he had slid down the bar and wrapped her in a bear hug, pulling her from her seat. 

“Hooooly shit, Nat! It’s good to see you. How the hell are you?” She chuckled at his enthusiasm; Benny’s attitude was infectious, she had always liked that about him.

“I’m…” She shrugged, not quite sure what to say. She was sure that Ben and the others knew about her and Frankie. What should she say? Lie and say she was doing great? Tell the truth and say she missed his friend? Whatever she said, it would surely get back to Frankie; life with five brothers of her own had taught her that men talk almost as much as women. “I’m…ok. I guess.” She gave him a small smile and another shrug, and avoided his eyes to keep herself from asking him how Frankie was doing? She looked instead at the pitcher of beer and four clean glasses that the bartender had just placed on the bar in front of Benny. Her eyes froze on the four drink receptacles and Benny followed her gaze.

“Uh….shit...yeah…” Benny looked almost embarrassed and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. “We...uh...we’re all in the back...playing pool.” She didn’t need to ask; the look on his face told her that Frankie was part of that “we”. She nodded and took a deep breath. Of course they were. She remembered now that night when she had first “the guys”, after dinner they had come here and commandeered one of the back rooms for several raucous games of pool. She remembered how much she had laughed that night, how it had made her heart sing to see Frankie so at ease with his friends, giving each other shit and swapping inside jokes. 

The memory made her eyes prick with tears and she stood up quickly. How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she realized where Meredith had brought them? She should have checked the parking lot for his truck. Dammit!

“Hey, Nat, listen…” Benny made to stop her from moving away and she paused and looked at him, waiting. He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think otherwise and just shrugged. “...Nothing. Never mind. It just...it really sucks...what happened with you and ‘Fish’. I know he…” again, he seemed to stop himself from saying too much. “Well….it just sucks,” he finished lamely. She could feel the tears welling now, threatening to spill over. She felt something like panic starting to rise in her chest at the realization that she was so close to Frankie after not seeing him for three months. The last time she had seen his face it had been marred with pain...pain that she had put there. His eyes had glittered with unshed tears and she remembered how his lower lip had trembled. She couldn’t see him now...there was no way she could face him! 

She suddenly felt like the water she had been slogging through all night had suddenly risen above her head and she couldn’t breathe. She yanked her jacket and purse off the back of her chair, scrambling to pay for her drink. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Ben. Me too...I mean, yeah. It does suck.” Her voice cracked. “It was good to see you…” she let her voice trail off, hoping that maybe he could read her mind; that maybe he would know to tell Frankie how empty she felt without him, how much she regretting asking him to pack his things and leave, how she wished she could do a thousand things differently. Instead, she just choked out “Take care, Benny.” And she whirled away before she lost the last shred of control of her emotions she still had. She didn’t want to be THAT girl sobbing into a drink at the bar.

She quickly let Meredith know what was going on.

“Nooooo!” Meredith crowed, slinging an arm around Nat’s shoulder. “He’s HERE?” She squeaked, craning her neck to look around the room and nearly toppling both of them over. Nat quickly untangled herself from her friend and made sure she was left in the capable care of one of the other sober women in the group. Then she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and headed out the door.

The heavy, humid Florida air seemed to suffocate her, but he evening had brought a blessedly soft breeze along with the darkness and she was grateful for the air that cut the mugginess, though she could still see clouds of humidity suspended within the shining lights of the parking lot lights. She shivered as she walked past the first row of vehicles and then the second, out of the relative comfort of the lights and further away from the music and ambient noise seeping out from the bar. She had parked in the furthest row earlier because of all the cars that had filled the lot when she and Meredith had arrived, but since they had been there, the second and third rows had diminished and her car now sat in solitude, the next closest at least five parking spots away.

Approaching her vehicle, she was putting her finger on the unlock button when she heard something that stopped her dead.

“Natalie.” 

Her heart felt like it was being pulled up through her throat and she suddenly felt lightheaded. That deep, gruff voice like warm honey. She hadn’t imagined she would ever hear her name spoken by that voice ever again except, perhaps, to curse her.

She turned and there he was, charging towards her across the parking lot. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see as far as emotion from Frankie, but the anger on his face was the last thing she imagined on his usually kind face. His brows were furrowed low over his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, fists balled at his sides. His eyes seemed impossibly hollow and overflowing with hostility all at the same time as his heavy stride kicked up gravel and crunched loudly as he strode towards her. 

“Frankie,” she said, her voice wavering a bit at the darkness in his face as he passed beneath the last parking lot light and continued his beeline towards her and her car. “It’s ok, I’m leaving. I didn’t know you were here...I should have figured. I remembered too late you guys come here sometimes and I-” 

Before she could finish, the rest of the words along with her breath was ripped from her chest as he slammed her body back against the side of her car with his, his mouth on hers, pinning every single part of her between every single part of him and her car. His lips were desperate, hungry; it was sloppy...she could taste beer on his tongue as he shoved it into her mouth without hesitation,seeking and prodding, attacking her own. It was all so abrupt and so unlike her sweet, gentle Frankie that she did nothing for a moment. Then she felt a moan slip from somewhere deep within her and climb her throat, seeping into his mouth as her arms flung themselves around his neck. 

He suddenly rutted his pelvis into hers, hard, eliciting another moan from her when she felt him stiff and solid beneath his jeans and now pressed against where she so desperately wanted him to be. 

“Open the door.” He grunted against her mouth, never taking his lips away from hers, his tongue leaving its assault on her only as long as it took to form the words. Her brain couldn’t focus on anything other than his kiss and it took her several long moments to even realize that he had spoken. “Open the fucking door.” Once again mouthed against her lips, this time it was a command, guttural and growled, like nothing she had ever heard from him or anyone else before. Breathless, he ripped his tongue and lips away from her, but kept his hands gripped tightly on her hips, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes as she fumbled with the key fob in her hand. The car’s headlights blipped, giving a soft  _ ca-chug  _ as the locks disengaged and in the next instant, he had ripped her away from the car, yanked the backseat door open behind her, and shoved her backwards inside.

Her bottom landed awkwardly on the seat and she bumped her head on something as she moved to right herself. She didn’t have time, though because Frankie was right behind her, looming over her and manhandling her further across the seat, hauling her legs into the car with one hand and slamming the door shut behind him with the other. 

It was dark in the backseat without the parking lot lights in this row, but she could make out his face, grim and determined as he yanked one of her legs up forcefully around his hip and knocked the other wide and into the footwell, widening her legs so that he could crouch between them. She heard the distinct metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone, then almost immediately the pop of his button and soft shush of his zipper. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and she saw again that dark gleam in his eyes as he shoved her shoulders down, made her lie back with her neck and head propped uncomfortably against the opposite passenger door. 

She wondered for a moment how much he had had to drink. Was that why he was being so aggressive? No, that couldn’t be it. She had been with him before when he’d had too much to drink. He got still and smiley and loved to put his face in her hair and sniff , or tangle their fingers together and make them dance on his stomach and chest while he sang a love song off key. 

This wasn’t her Frankie.

This wasn’t the Frankie that had called her his angel and begged her not to send him away the last time she had seen him.

This wasn’t the Frankie that was always so caring and gentle and thoughtful and slow.

This wasn’t the Frankie that always whispered to her that she was beautiful when he was inside of her, that told her how he was so lucky she had chosen him, that made sure she was always comfortable.

This Frankie? This Frankie was something else entirely:

Dark.

Dangerous.

Angry.

And holy shit did she want him to fuck her.

His hands ripped at her skirt, pulling it high around her waist. He didn’t stop to remove her panties, merely shoved them to the side as he pulled himself from his jeans. He paused for just a moment, leaning over her, one hand next to her head on the seat holding himself up, the other hand gently tugging on his swollen cock. She gazed up into his face trying to see his eyes, but he kept his head angled downward, seemingly mesmerized by the pump of his hand hovering over her heat. She brought her hands up and twined them in his hair, uncovered now when his ball cap had been knocked from his head at some point. She revelled for a split second in the feel of the silky brown locks between her fingers and thought briefly of those lazy Saturdays when they had laid in bed reading or napping or talking, his head resting on her stomach and her fingers carding through this same soft hair. She felt him draw in a sharp breath at the touch and felt his body shudder. But he still refused to look at her. 

She gathered more of his hair in her hands until she had two fistfulls. She slowly tightened her grip, then gave a firm but insistent tug with both hands. His head finally lifted and she saw his eyes. 

The hurt that she remembered from the last time was still there, raw and real as ever. Simmering below it was the darkness she had seen only a moment ago. Covering all of it was a thin sheen of desire that colored everything else. His eyes spoke to her clearly. 

He wanted her. He knew that he shouldn’t want her. But he was going to have her.

And it was not going to be gentle. Or sweet. Or soft.

She nodded. Yes. Please.

Without warning, his eyes still locked with hers, he shoved himself inside of her with one hard push, fully seating himself. It was abrasive and she hissed as his dry cock entered her core without any type of preparation. She had only a split second to feel it though, before he yanked himself out, then back again, repeating the motion again and again. Thankfully, as he thrust in and out of her, her own wetness spread, easing some of the pain from his initial entry.

There were no sweet, breathless pants of pet names, no cries of affirmation. No calls to deities or lusty moans of pleasure. There was simply the ragged sound of both of them breathing heavily in the small space, an occasional quiet gasp lighting the air. The muffled sounds of his denim clad hips smacking into her naked thighs and ass drowned out most everything else. His pace was manic and he rammed his hips into hers over and over so hard she imagined she would for sure have bruises on her hips tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut more than once against the sharpness of his thrusts, trying not to cry out in pain. It hurt a little, but the fact that it was Frankie moving against her made her want to sob with pleasure. He pressed his forehead into the door behind her head, his breath puffing into her ear with each hard thrust and she snaked her arms up his back and shoulders the way she had always done, digging her nails forcefully into his skin along the way, drawing a hiss from his lips and seeming to spur him on harder. She whispered his name into his ear.

“Frankie…”

He yanked his head up, his eyes flashing with anger again and moved one hand from her hips to her throat. He squeezed...hard, and she panicked for a moment. This had never happened before. She had never been afraid of him before but for an instant she was as she felt her windpipe close beneath his hand. She knew...she had never asked for details, but she knew...Frankie had killed people before, that he was capable...she had no doubt he could snap her neck right here in her own car if he wanted to. But just as the thought entered her brain he released his grip, but kept his hand firmly wrapped around her neck. He buried his face back next to her ear, spitting out words between each powerful shove forward of his hips.

“Don’t say my fucking name. Don’t say anything. Just shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

His voice was dark, but she heard the desperation lacing the edges. The tendrils of his gruff and growly voice against her own ear sent a shiver through her. Despite his unkind words, somewhere deep down, she understood what he meant. 

This was only for this moment. This was nothing past the inside of this car. 

Frankie needed to feel her, needed to get off. This frantic, off-limits, out of control act of violently fucking his ex in the backseat of her car was not something he wanted to be doing. But the alternative-what he had chosen in the past, before Natalie-would ruin any slim chance there might be of ever getting this woman back if again.

He could have found someone else; a warm body. It wouldn’t have been that hard...some willing woman in a bar on any given night. But he couldn’t make that choice, either. He couldn’t find peace in someone that wasn’t her...because no one else could make him feel at peace and whole the way she could. His angel.

So, rather than hold her close and tell her he loved her and worship her body and bring her to ecstasy over and over and over again, here he was treating her like a cheap fuck, pretending that she wasn’t the woman he loved; the woman that had broken his heart. And he couldn’t pretend when she was breathing his name into his ear.

Without any words, without him having to explain any of that, Natalie understood.

He thrust into her once more...twice...three more times, each seemingly harder than the last and then he let out a cry filled with desperation and sadness as he spilled himself inside of her. Tears welled in his eyes as he felt himself twitching inside of her, the familiar feeling of her walls cradling him nearly sending those tears pouring down his face. He felt his stomach turn to water and his neck began to burn with shame. He hated that he hadn’t taken time to get her off, that she had read his need and had willingly let him take her, allowed him to be selfish.

He hated himself. 

He pulled himself out of her slick heat, practically kicking the car door open and tucking himself back into his jeans as he stepped out of the vehicle. He couldn’t look her in the eye. Without a word, he turned and walked away from her car, crossing the parking lot as fast as he could, climbing into his beat up old pickup and peeling away. Natalie still lay breathless in the backseat as she heard the roar of his truck engine, the door of her car still wide open, her legs splayed and her skirt hiked up to her waist, his cum dripping out of her and pooling onto the seat beneath her.

****

Later, when she pulled into her driveway, she realized she had no idea where her purse was. She remembered she had had it in her hand when Frankie had kissed her. Without looking, she reached behind the front passenger seat and grasped blindly into the footwells until her hand knocked against something solid. She grabbed it and realized immediately it wasn’t her purse, but she couldn’t identify it. When she brought her hand forward to examine the item, she stopped breathing.

It was Frankie’s baseball cap.

Clutching it to her chest, she felt herself shatter into a million pieces. She caught a whiff of Frankie: his shampoo, his cologne, the sweat from his brow.

She buried her face into the cap and sobbed.


End file.
